


All the King's Horses

by syrenia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Rigel Black Chronicles - murkybluematter, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Gen, Inspired by The Rigel Black Chronicles, No Beta we die like the persona of Rigel Black, RBC Masquerade 2021, Severus Snape and the Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Apprenticeship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:40:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29256846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syrenia/pseuds/syrenia
Summary: The boy was going to drive him mad.Between Rigel's self-sacrifice as a political bargaining chip with Lord Riddle and his blatant lack of care for preparation after having entered, Severus was at a breaking point. And the tournament had yet to even begin.Or: the True Triwizard Tournament, through the eyes of Severus Snape
Relationships: Harriet Potter | Rigel Black & Severus Snape
Comments: 17
Kudos: 101
Collections: Rigel Black Chronicles Masquerade 2021





	All the King's Horses

The boy was going to drive him mad. 

Between Rigel's self-sacrifice as a political bargaining chip with Lord Riddle through an unbreakable vow and the boy's blatant lack of care for preparation after having entered, Severus was at a breaking point. He had signed up for a brilliant potions apprentice, not a bull-headed political nightmare (at least, no more than what his life had already become).

The tournament had yet to even begin. 

If he cared slightly less about subtlety, and slightly less about the stupid boy’s well-being, he would be shoving a dozen books on dangerous magical creatures into Rigel’s arms and calling it a day. He had no doubt that Minerva and Pomona were likely doing the same, just with far more willing candidates to aid. 

Severus sighed and massaged his temples. He had not even considered the dragon that was apparently in the woods, besides quintapeds and snallygasters and sphinxes and the boy’s own lingering trauma that no one has thought to address; he was _still_ taking dreamless sleep for Merlin’s sake—

A knock at his door interrupted Severus’ spiraling thoughts. 

“Professor Snape? I had a question about this morning’s potions assignment, might I come in?”

Severus composed himself before telling the student to enter, pushing the thoughts of a certain troublesome Mr. Black out of his head for the time-being. His hands were tied in terms of the tournament as a whole; there was nothing he could do but help Rigel perform the best that he could. 

\- SS -

Watching dragon fire envelop Rigel, mere minutes after confronting a werewolf, neither of which being the event of the night that sent his student spiraling into a panic attack, Severus was fuming yet again. 

Rigel may have “won,” but it was Severus’ fault that he hadn’t done enough to prepare his apprentice for this task, whether he had expected a rogue werewolf or not. He would have to pull any strings he could for the next task. 

Lord Riddle began announcing scores, and Severus tried to focus enough to calculate the rankings. He knew that it was in his best interest to see Rigel win. But looking at his student, tired and wan even through the lens of the mirror? 

All he could really think to want was for Rigel to survive unscathed. 

\- SS -

Severus’ heart jumped in his chest with Rigel’s leap across the airborne pathways. 

Stupid, stupid child. Rigel knew enough of ancient runes to solve the blood-ward. Of that, Severus was certain. What did it say about the child’s sense of self-preservation that his paranoia was so profound as to stop him from willingly spilling even the slightest bit of blood, but he would readily fling himself into the open air? 

He did not have the time to contemplate further before a tremendous burst of magic ripped through the air. Severus watched, frozen, as his apprentice’s tiny form hurtled towards the ground on a chunk of debris, rolled, and lay there, still. For a moment, Severus could not breathe.

He did _not_ run to rescue his apprentice from the falling rubble. But it was a near-thing. 

\- SS -

The boy was truly extraordinary. His first attempt at free-brewing, and already, he had more control than many masters of the art. He seemed to be putting his sensing ability to good use, at least. Severus tamped down on the not-insignificant flare of pride from that realization. Pride would be of no use here. 

At least, not when the boy was equally extraordinary at thoroughly inflaming Lord Riddle’s temper. Truly, if he had to name anything more volatile than free-brewing, it would be Lord Riddle’s mood as of late. Rigel was doing well - part of the plan - but entirely of his own merit and devices - something wholly not in the books. Severus winced, remembering the bottles and furniture Lord Riddle had smashed in his rampage behind closed doors after Rigel rejected his offer of mentorship for a second time. 

Really, what was Lord Riddle thinking? He was brilliant by any definition, but did he truly think shoving magic into a child’s core was the way to gain his allegiance?

Rigel had always played by his own rules, Severus mused. His hand hovered for a moment over the inert sludge that Rigel had created in their first free-brewing session. His _first_ attempt at free-brewing, and he had already come so close to a stable brew. Again and again, Rigel found ways to exceed impossibly high expectations. The child rewrote the rules of magic with his very existence. 

Severus sighed and vanished the ruined potion with a practiced gesture. Sooner than he had hoped, he might have nothing more to teach him. 

\- SS -

The duels were nothing short of stunning. Anyone with eyes could see that. 

He felt a faint glow of pride every time he watched Rigel summon a technique Severus had taught him: a swirl of black smoke, or a particularly tricky variation on a countercurse. He did feel a bit taken aback, however, by the sheer amount of skills he did not recognize.

He knew that his godson had been running a secret dueling club all term, but what were the odds that Rigel had learned the _lightning jaw_ from young Draco? For that matter, where had the child learned to duel against a blade? To take apart a man as mercilessly as he had that American muggleborn? 

Severus filed those observations away next to the child’s extraordinary paranoia. Perhaps after the events of last year, he had felt the need to learn to defend himself more thoroughly. Understandable, of course, but gauging by the silent arena after Rigel’s matches...the audience would likely make their own assumptions about Rigel’s success. 

Severus quietly added a session on blood magic, when it was and was not appropriate, to his tournament preparation plans in the future.

At least the boy seemed to be performing remarkably—no— astonishingly well. But whether that was to his credit or his detriment, time was yet to tell. 

Severus watched his godson and Pansy Parkinson practically drag Rigel away from the dueling ring, the child’s shoulders slumped in defeat despite his victory.

...perhaps the latter was more likely. 

\- SS -

Hopeless. He was utterly hopeless. 

Whether that was directed at Rigel, or towards himself, Severus had no idea. But watching three teenagers stumble across the field, barely able to walk, let alone climb, he felt a wave of helpless anger rise in his throat.

Had Severus not known Lord Riddle a bit of a madman before, this task would have confirmed it. Why had he not been responsible for brewing the potions involved? For that matter, why was such a powerful _draught of delirium_ involved with the task at all?

Severus knew that the challenge’s design had likely been to ward against potential biases, but surely that was preferable to trusting a random half-feral teenager from Merlin knows where to brew what could be deadly poisons. 

He could scarcely focus on his irritation to ground him, as Rigel climbed higher and higher on that dreadful tower, each step slower and more uncertain than the last. 

When Rigel fell, buffeted by magic, Severus was there to catch him. 

This time, he ran.

\- SS -

Rigel’s screams filled his ears. His ever-present wit, even hoarse and torn by a mental, physical, and magical assault rang through the stadium and seemed to beat against Severus’ soul. What could he do? 

Severus was never caught without a plan. He knew what happened when one acted out of desperation, when backed into a corner. He had made enough mistakes to bind him for life.

Though, added a wry thought, perhaps not after today

He pushed down on that idea. He could process later. He had an apprentice to rescue. The figure who had emerged—why did he resemble Lord Riddle so closely? What was that potion that he had emerged from? Severus wracked his brain even as his limbs felt frozen in horror. 

The headmaster was unraveling the wards to little effect. Aurors were beating against the stage to little effect. The audience roared, to little effect. What could he do? 

Green light washed over Rigel’s form. An ear-piercing scream rang through the air. His protégé of the last four years turned on his heel and disappeared. 

Relief and fear warred within him. Rigel had seemed relatively physically sound. He would need to be, considering he would be on the run from the entire Wizarding World. Hazarding a glance at Lord Riddle, Severus spotted an expression darker than his own thoughts. 

Rigel would be anywhere, anyone. Too late, Severus recalled the hints that had built up: the uncanny composure and drive, for a child of 11. The paranoia and touch-aversion that had reminded him of abused children, despite no such signs in Black’s actual home-life. That single instance, months ago, of seeing Rigel’s features warp and twist as if through a haze of polyjuice before finding him coughing up the morning’s breakfast in the nearby loo. 

But he was a child, in the end. Severus could feel the too-familiar weight of the boy in his arms, weak after nearly dying at the bite of a basilisk. Too frail and light after weeks of starvation. Fragile, after overpowering an obstacle course powered by a dozen wizards. Limp and delirious, after having been poisoned by his own hand. 

Rigel, wherever he was, whoever he was, was all alone. Severus thought ruefully of the dozen stoppered bottles of homesickness reliever still sitting in his office.

What could he do? 

Turning on his heel, Severus swept out of the chaos of the last task with only one thing on his mind. 

He had failed his protégé too many times before. In this, he refused to do the same. 

Severus had work to do.


End file.
